Luring Me to Betray
by jadedlight
Summary: He wore a silver band on his thumb. It wasn’t ornate or intricate in any way, which intrigued me to no end. It was simple, unblemished, unambiguous… everything he was not. DGish


I wrote this many, many months ago and never got around to posting it. I'm still not sure whether to leave it as is or create an extended story out of it. And for those of you still waiting for me to update "Safety in the Storm," well, you'll probably have to keep waiting. School is still kicking my butt at the moment.  
  
Anyway, let me know what you think.  
  
* * * * *  
  
He wore a silver band on his thumb. It wasn't ornate or intricate in any way, which intrigued me to no end. It was simple, unblemished, unambiguous. everything he was not.  
  
How had I not noticed it before? I must've seen it countless times yet, for the life of me, I couldn't recall even one instance I had seen it. Maybe that was what drew me in, made me see him differently. When I saw that burnished silver ring, I realized that all my past misconceptions may have extended to him as well. I mean, hell, I caught *him* and *her* snogging not even an hour before and it didn't look as though it were the first time either. How much more oblivious can you get, right?  
  
Now, don't get me wrong. I knew he was still the same arrogant and pretentious bastard that taunted me for the past five years, it was just that now he was no longer two-dimensional to me. There was a depth to him, a darkness, and it sucked me in and pulled me under the currents until I was drowning.  
  
He stood and my eyes followed his graceful strides as he crossed to a bookshelf and examined the titles in an organized fashion. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the blonde haired enigma out of my mind and looked down at my open diary where I had sketched a crude drawing of *him* being hit by seven bludgers at once. It made me smile.  
  
I hadn't cried yet and I honestly didn't think I would. I felt beyond tears now; my body was numb, my heart deadened. But then, I don't think I had actually loved him anyway. In fact, I sort of wished that the truculent pain a scorned lover was supposed to feel would assault me so that I could feel justified in my bitterness.  
  
There was a slight, warm pressure that rested on my shoulder and I willed myself not to look over but my eyes seemed to rise of their own volition. Green eyes, darkened by moroseness, looked down on me with concern. I found myself grinning out of pure rancor and malice.  
  
"Gin," Harry tried and subsequently failed. Suddenly he couldn't seem to meet my eyes, something he had never had trouble doing, and I gained a bit of satisfaction in that.  
  
"How long?" I hissed quietly. No need to set the rumor mills churning just yet.  
  
He didn't want to tell me and he fidgeted from one foot to the other looking as though he were on the verge of running out of the library and never looking back. But he was every bit the boy wonder people made him out to be and he stayed and faced me.  
  
"A week."  
  
I had to remind myself that I hadn't really been in love with him and therefore should not be angry, but I could feel the heat of aggression coursing through my veins like molten lava.  
  
I will not blow up at him. I will not yell. I will not cause a scene. I will behave calmly and rationally. Ah, hell.  
  
"A bloody week! When were you planning to tell me? The Yule Ball? Bastard!"  
  
To be perfectly honest, I felt much better after my outburst, especially since the perfect Harry Potter was cringing with guilt.  
  
"Can we--" he began, but I cut him off, smugly noticing the flush crawling up his neck as he realized that every eye in the library was focused on us.  
  
"If you do not leave this instant, I will notify The Prophet and offer them an exclusive interview with Harry Potter's scorned ex-lover."  
  
Those green eyes widened in shock then narrowed at my harshness. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked out, each step punctuated by a loud swish of his slacks in the deafeningly silent athenaeum.  
  
Feeling lighter than I had in months, I turned back to my drawing and added another bludger.  
  
It was funny but I knew the exact moment he turned his attention to me. Yes, I was quite aware that everyone was staring at me, but I knew he was watching me; I could feel his eyes lingering and I stole a glance in his direction only to find him focused on the book in front of him.  
  
By that time, the other students had returned to their studies, obviously disappointed in my lack of hysterics. Carefully, I smoothed my hair and straightened my robes, determined to show everyone my supreme indifference. Again, I felt him scrutinize me, yet when I sought out his eyes, they were on anything but me.  
  
But still, I knew he was watching.  
  
* * * * *  
  
So, what's the verdict? Leave as is, or keep going?  
  
Jennie 


End file.
